


Tied Up

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:27:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request: Can I request some kinky Jaskier x reader bondage smut? It doesn’t matter who’s getting tied up
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Kudos: 23





	Tied Up

The rope was fresh, newly cut and well waxed to prevent chafing. Well, minimize chafing. Prevention would require staying still and they were far past that point. Jaskier’s wrists were bound and held taut above his head, secured to the headboard. You had secured his ankles, winding the rope beneath the bed and tying it through the metalwork of the bed’s ornate design. You’d lovingly tucked a pillow beneath his head, propping him up for comfort, and to ensure that he could watch.

A safe word was chosen. Boundaries established. Now it was just you, smiling down at him as he writhed beneath your scrutiny. The angles you’d bound him in showed off the lean musculature of his body as his arms and legs flexed and shifted. The veins in his neck were prominent as he clenched his teeth, watching you with pleading eyes. He was hard, cock twitching helplessly as you considered when you would finally satisfy his needs. He was too fun to ease and the sadist in you relished the desperate noises he made as you trailed your fingers up his thighs.

“Shhh,” you cooed as he gave a frustrated grunt when your hands skimmed over where he needed you the most, “You know what you need to do.”

He bit back an angry retort, blue eyes darkened with lust.

“Please,” he said, the word bitten out between clenched teeth.

“Hmm…” you considered thoughtfully, tracing your hand up past the smooth plane of his stomach to his shoulders, broader than his clothing showed, up to his face where you rubbed your thumb across his lips. He caught it between his lips, hungry for any part of you he could take.

“I don’t know if you really need it yet,” you said, biting back a laugh as he gave you the most adorable, despairing look.

“I do,” he argued.

“How much?” you asked.

“More than anything.”

“What would you do?”

“Anything.”

“Careful,” you said, “It’s dangerous to give someone that power.”

“You already have all power over me you could want. I’m yours, Y/N, you know that,” he said, his words soft and loving even in this state. He was so good for you. So kind and so obedient. And so fun to torment. You brushed his hair back tenderly, his eyes watching yours intently for any sign of mercy.

“I love you,” you said, because the thought came to you unbidden and you had decided long ago you would tell him anytime it did. He needed to know how much he was loved and wanted. Sometimes that meant you lying soft and pliant beneath him, sometimes it meant you looming over him, dominant and but no less caring.

“I love you,” he replied, the words whispered so quietly you nearly couldn’t hear, but the look on his face leaving no doubt to the intent.

“Now, Jaskier, tell me what you want,” you prompt.

“You,” he answers, “However I can have you.”

“Pretty words from a pretty boy,” you say, “Do you want to come for me, love?”

“Yes,” the answer caught in his throat as you ever so lightly brushed your fingertips up his length. You watched his face as it contorted and worked to compose itself, failing miserably.

“You know what you need to do,” you repeat. His pleas, repeated and breathless, choke into moans as you straddle him, grinding against him, offering him proof of your satisfaction with his performance as he feels the slick warmth of your desire pushed against him but not quite what he needs yet. Not yet.

“Who do you belong to, Jaskier?” you ask, leaning forward so you can rest your forehead against his, his hair mussed and damp from perspiration.

“You,” he answers, “Always you.”

“And who do I belong to, Jaskier?” you ask, hand reaching down to line him up to your entrance. His hips buck instinctively but you push him back down. He bites his lip and you kiss the bared teeth.

“I asked you a question,” you say.

“Me,” he replies, the word husky and possessive and music to your ears, “You belong to me, Y/N.”

“You’re so good for me, Jaskier,” you murmur and then capture his mouth with yours as you finally lower yourself onto him, swallowing his moans. You hold onto his shoulders for leverage as you ride him. He’s weak with need and lets you take your pleasure from him, using his body to get off quickly, knowing he won’t last long after the time you’ve spent teasing him. In the throes of your climax Jaskier finds his own, your cries mingling in a passionate duet.


End file.
